


Baisemain

by ornithia



Series: Had to be You [6]
Category: Transformers: Shattered Glass
Genre: M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-05
Updated: 2014-07-05
Packaged: 2018-02-07 12:59:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1899885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ornithia/pseuds/ornithia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><div class="center">
  <p>A kiss on the hand.</p>
</div>
            </blockquote>





	Baisemain

**Author's Note:**

> Drabble prompts, based upon roleplay at [my SG Jetfire roleplaying blog](http://i-willraisehell.tumblr.com/)

_You disgust me._  
  
Wheeljack’s silent thoughts drifted as he multi-tasked between Jetfire and his work; one of the few ways to get the over-sized mech to behave was through his tank, and though the shuttle wasn’t particularly picky about what _exactly_ went into it (edible or not), he seemed to have developed a particular fondness for the food of his feeder’s beloved pets. Popping one of his 'dinobot' treats into the flier’s gaping maw, the grounder grimaced beneath his mask - at least it kept him _quiet_.

_Crunch, crunch …_

In the meantime, Jetfire leaned backwards across Wheeljack’s work table, like some cyber-dog sprawled before its master. Not that Wheeljack held such a position over him … but then again, it wasn’t like Prime would ever bother to lavish the shuttle with this sort of attention - no, not _Jetfire_. Snatching down the morsel that awaited him from the grounder’s fingertips, he ruminated where he lay, and not just in the literal sense - was this a new flavor?

"-hm?"  
  
Working from physical memory, Wheeljack wasn’t paying much attention where his hand went, so long as it was followed by the sound of silence (Jetfire’s chewing, aside). A string of calculations caught his attention, and for the time being the engineer forgot about his companion, far too engrossed in the numbers that covered his papers. It wasn’t till he became aware of some _tingling_ sensation, slipping, _lapping_ between his fingers and across his digits that his attention truly snapped back to the matter at hand (literally). When it did it took all of his conscious effort to _not_ flinch away-  
  
 **"Jetfire!"**  
  
To be fair, Wheeljack’s hand _had_ stopped to hover over his face for too long a klik. Eager to investigate this new flavor but lacking a sample from which to taste, the shuttle had done the next ‘reasonable’ thing in his mind; he’d poked his glossa out as far as it could reach, to lick the crumbs that coated the engineer’s hand _off,_ rather than waste valuable effort in retrieving his own item. The grounder’s voice broke his moment of mindless contemplation and, expecting the other to pull away before he could consider himself sated, Jetfire leaned up to ‘peck’ away a particularly large crumb that sat wedged between a stubborn set of joints. His glossa had been tracing over the tidbit prior to this, idly, but lacked the sufficient strength to pull it free. His lips, on the other hand, don’t have this issue. Not having to worry about disturbing his occupied 'friend' (it was too late for that), they fare a much better outcome, except-  
  
 _"Ow-!"_  
  
It seems the action provokes retaliation from Wheeljack. He shoves the flier, already hanging precariously off the edge of his desk, onto the floor.


End file.
